The final days eked by, anticipation building, preparations being finalized. On the final day at the Williamsburg Marriott we had a series of weigh-ins and many meetings throughout the day for various people and for various purposes. We did, however, get to start the day about two hours later than usual, which was very much needed. The next couple of days would be long.
What does a weigh-in entail, and why would we need one? Well, unlike commercial flights, this flight would be filled with a group of common origin and destination, dressed alike, and carrying tons (literally) of gear. As with any flight, a loadmaster has to determine the weight being carried by the craft and ensure that it is properly stowed and distributed. A group such as ours has a baggage issue—that is—there’s lots of it. Much of what was carried onboard was required, issued gear, while some of it was personal. A 75 lb. limit on one checked bag and a 70 lb. limit on the other would make most baggage agents at airports balk; however, our gear is required to be with us at all times and it is quite heavy. This includes: Individual Body Armor (IBA), Kevlar (Helmet), Chemical Biological and Radiological Defense (CBRD) Gear, and assorted other issued gear and uniforms. Is it overkill? You bet. And it’s gotten better than when this engagement first started. You should see the load out that the Army Bubba’s get. It’s ridiculous.
A meticulous process of weighing each individual in uniform, weighing each checked bag (a Seabag, and a Kit bag…both green and military issue) as well as one carry-on bag (under 25 lbs.) took a great deal of time. We were allowed to stuff our pockets with as much as we could to be included in our individual weight, which incidentally had no limit. Some people took this to a rather obscene level. They even let you carry your laptop so that it wasn’t included in your carry-on bag weight. This allowed for some absurdly over-burdened and jangly people—with things stuffed everywhere and hanging off of every hook and flap so that they looked like some uniformed junk-dealer. Fortunately, all of my bags came in substantially below the limit.
Most of our personal belongings were shipped via USPS in trunks affectionately referred to as “Gorilla Boxes.” These come in various sizes and are made by numerous manufacturers and are each individual’s responsibility to purchase, load, and mail. I sent two medium boxes forward containing things like a set of sheets, pillow, a couple of towels, limited civilian clothes, flashlights, and other odds and ends. Again, some have really gone a little overboard: big screen monitors, huge desktop external hard drives, whole libraries of books, dvd’s, knick-knacks, and patty-whacks. All I can say is, “wow.”
After a last meal with some of the other JO’s (junior officer’s) at a local Thai restaurant and some final phone calls, I slipped my Blackberry into a prepaid envelope and dropped it at the front desk to mail home. I got to bed at 2230.
At 2355 I was up and getting ready for my 0015 muster. Muster, bus load out, and transport to Langley and we were waiting in a hangar at sometime before 0200 awaiting a 0630 flight. Some slept (in impossible positions) while I and many others milled about talking, drinking coffee and eating Krispy Kreme donuts provided generously by the USO. Time stopped. I must have checked my watch every five minutes all night long.
Finally, sometime after dawn, we had to arrange ourselves alphabetically and load onto buses that drove us onto the flight line. The cold was penetrating. We waited, lined up, single file, to get onto the chartered DC-10 for what seemed like an eternity. On-board the plane there was controlled chaos. While the process was very well organized there was the inevitable buzz of chatter, the stowing of lots of carry-on bags and gear, the situating of oneself, the changing of seats, etc. At long last, we were loaded, sealed up, and rolling.